


A Day in the Life of Matt Murdock

by handyhunter



Category: Daredevil (2003), Wolverine (2009)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-19
Updated: 2010-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handyhunter/pseuds/handyhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place some time after both the Daredevil and Wolverine movies, but prior to X3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day in the Life of Matt Murdock

With the newspaper tucked under one arm and favourite travel mug in hand, Foggy felt suitably armed to take on the bright Monday morning. It was too nice a day to be stuck in the office, but he and Matt couldn't pass up the possibility of a paying client. He'd only just settled in at his desk when the front door blew open, rattling both the shelving and Foggy's nerves. His coffee spilled over the lid of his "spill-proof" mug and he hurriedly moped it up with the Arts &amp; Leisure section.

"Ahh!" he said, turning it into a cough. "Hi! Welcome to Nelson and Murdock, how may we help you?" He wondered if his greeting was too generic or jovial, given the way the other man stared at him over the rims of his glasses.

"Is Murdock in?" he said abruptly, pointing his rolled up newspaper at Foggy.

"Matt?" Foggy forced himself to keep a smile on his face. "No, he's not here yet, but I'm the Nelson half of--"

The door adjacent to his swung open and a rumpled Matt Murdock stood in the doorway. "Come in, Ben," he said, stepping aside to let him through. When Foggy moved to follow, though, Matt - almost deliberately, Foggy thought - stepped in his way. "It's not a legal matter, Foggy." There was a hint of an apology in his voice, and Foggy suspected that if Matt could see, he wouldn't be looking him in the eye now either. He blinked when the door slammed shut in his face.

The front door opened again and Foggy spun around. "Oh, it's only you, Karen."

"Were you expecting someone else? You're here early. Is Matt in?" She hung up her jacket and set down her briefcase in small, efficient movements.

"Um, yeah, he's in. He's in a meeting." Foggy glanced back at the closed door; he couldn't hear anything through it. "Do you want any coffee?"

"Only if I make it," she said, and headed for the coffee pot.

With nothing to do, Foggy wandered back to his desk to spend some quality time with the crossword puzzle of his coffee-stained newspaper.

***

"Have you seen this? Sorry, stupid question." Ben Urich reeked of stale cigarettes and nervous energy. He paced around Matt's tiny office, his footfalls matching the rhythm of his words. "Here, I'll read it to you. 'Three men found unconscious in Hell's Kitchen'. Nothing unusual about that, right? Except that the _Times_ is reporting it. But at the end, 'a handful of playing cards embedded in the wall behind the victims' -- doesn't that strike you as something our pal ought to know about?"

Matt sat up a little straighter, the last vestiges of sleep cleared from his mind by a surge of adrenaline. "I thought Bullseye was still locked up."

"He is," said Urich, standing still long enough to drop the crumpled paper in Matt's hands. "I want to find out who this new guy is."

Matt tossed the newspaper unerringly into the garbage can. There wasn't anything else useful to be gleaned from it. "You're here for a story?"

"Aren't I always? I'll see myself out."

***

Come nightfall, if anyone on the busy streets bothered to look up, they'd find an extra gargoyle alongside the bell tower of Father Everett's church. Only one man did, as was his habit during his many smoke breaks; sometimes he spotted the Daredevil -- and even then, he wasn't always convinced it wasn't some trick of the eye. When he finished his cigarette, he hurried back inside to pound away at the keys, mindful of his deadline.

The Daredevil waited, letting the sounds of his city wash over him until it settled into a manageable thrum. Beyond the usual noise of traffic and people going about their everyday lives, punctuated by the irregular, staccato beat of crime and confusion... Beyond all that... _There._

He sprang from his crouch to vault off the roof, and for a moment, lost himself in the thrill of falling and swinging through the air, so much like flying; the blood pounding through his ears was the only blessed thing he could hear. Even as the night sounds came back to him, he clung to this exhilaration, of being completely in his body that knew just when to twist, where to step, or flip or leap as he chased down his unknown target along the rooftops and back alleys that had made up his childhood playground. He felt more than heard the strange vibrations that had nothing to do with the inner workings of the Kitchen.

He heard yelling and the scrambling of feet as men scurried away or dove into the fight. These were goons and thugs, most of them likely still in Fisk's pay, despite his current stay in Riker's. No one he was willing to help out. It was over soon anyway, with sudden bursts of small explosives and a ripple that rocked the rooftop from his feet. He clung to the fire escape for balance, until his feet found purchase on a windowsill.

"I know you're up there." It was an unfamiliar voice, with an accent that hinted of the American South, though he couldn't quite place it. He dropped down, landing lightly on his feet. The smell of blood was in the air, but no one's wounds seemed fatal.

"Who are you?" he asked, one hand on his billy stick.

"Depends who's asking. Do I owe you money?" The other man's reply was insouciant, though his heartbeat claimed otherwise. They were circling one another now, and Matt caught whiffs of expensive cologne and shoe polish.

"Not as far as I know." This was shaping up to be one of the strangest conversations he'd been in lately.

"Good. Then you can call me Gambit."

"Okay, _Gambit_. Why are you here?"

"On business."

Matt resisted the urge to pick a fight. "_What_ business?"

"None of yours."

"It is when you sweep into my town and leave a trail of bodies."

"No one's dead yet, Daredevil. Don't look so surprised. Your reputation precedes you."

The only warning Matt received was the low hum of charged electricity and then he was thrown backwards, skidding into a dumpster and batting the air in front of him to ward off...playing cards? He picked up one, but there wasn't anything on it that revealed any more about Gambit, who'd predictably disappeared.

It took Matt nearly an hour to track him down again, and this time he was careful to keep the element of surprise on his side. Gambit might be supercharged, but he didn't know the ins and outs of the Kitchen like Matt did. He was down by the docks, evidently looking for something, and not being very quiet about it. Whoever got in his way was simply stunned into unconsciousness. The aftershocks of energy Gambit put out distorted Matt's sonar-vision, which Matt figured was reason enough to dislike the guy and hurry him on out of here, even without all his mysterious activities.

He waited in the shadows behind a rusted shipping container, the crunch of Gambit's shoes on the pavement growing louder as he came nearer. The tip of Gambit's ridiculous hat - that also hid his face - came into view, and Matt simply stuck out his billy stick to trip him up. Gambit staggered and Matt grabbed his arms from behind, making short work of immobilizing Gambit's hands. The man had a lot of fire power from a distance, but did not have Matt's hand-to-hand combat skills. There were times when he liked to be a bit...theatrical - because he could, and why not? - when he was sparring, but he was tired and not interested in either impressing or striking fear into the hearts of his enemies today. He just wanted some answers.

"So, let me ask you one more time: Why are you here?"

Gambit tested his bonds and when they didn't break, answered Matt's question with another of his own. "Are you a mutant? No, no, wait. You can't have missed it, on the news? Worthington Labs is working on the mutant cure. I'm here to find it."

"Worthington Labs is on the other side of the country." There was no change in Gambit's heartbeat -- but if he were a mutant, perhaps it was something he had control over.

"I'm aware of that. But shipments have gone missing."

"And you think it's here."

"Why not?" Gambit drawled softly. "Fisk and his ilk deal in alcohol, drugs, prostitution. What's to stop them from profiting off mutants too?"

"Fisk's in jail." A mile or so away, security guards in the control room were beginning to notice something amiss in the section they were in.

"Yeah, and what's changed? I notice you haven't hung up your mask."

Sirens were wailing in the distance, but the guards and their dogs would reach them first. "We have to get out of here." Matt unravelled the cable of his grappling hook from Gambit's wrists and flung it onto the roof of the warehouse. He used it as leverage to flip himself up the four storeys. "Keep up, will you?" he called down, but not loudly enough to be heard by anyone else.

Gambit muttered something unintelligible, but increased his speed, climbing the wall with inhumane grace and only the use of his staff. They ran away until they lost the guards, which wasn't difficult to do, but Matt kept going until they were no more than a block away from his apartment.

"So, this cure, does it work?"

Gambit shuffled a deck of cards between his hands. The smell of charged air was back, and Matt thought he could see an eery glow through Gambit's fingers. But he made no move to fire off his cards, so Matt left the billy club holstered.

"That is a distinct possibility. Rumour has it Worthington is set to try it out on mutants very, very soon."

Matt nodded. "What's your plan of attack?"

"Already done, homme, or did you think I was sight-seeing my way around? Destroyed all the samples. I've had enough of mutant experimentation."

The change in heartbeat was subtle that Matt might have missed it if he wasn't listening for it. "You're lying."

Static crackled through the air. "You think this is something I would lie about? They were testing on _kids_\--"

"I mean about the samples. You didn't destroy them." Matt was careful to leave out any tone of accusation. He was fairly convinced this Gambit guy wasn't going to turn around and sell them on the black market, but if he did...

"I kept one sample. The rest I destroyed, my hand to God."

Gambit's heart rate remained steady. And whatever doubts Matt had about making vows to God, he kept to himself. "Planning on taking it yourself?"

"Me?" Surprise was all over that word, as if Gambit had honestly never thought of it before. "Non. It's for a doctor - a mutant doctor - I know. He wants to study it. Maybe make an antidote, in case."

"Oh. I sincerely hope you never have to use it." Matt paused. It felt like he should say something else. "I trust you know your way out of the Kitchen."

Once more that evening, Daredevil leapt into the night.

***

Ben Urich peeled himself off his desk with a groan. He had a post-it note stuck to nose and his glasses were smudged. He was getting too old to pull all nighters, especially for a story that he had to admit was only mediocre at best. Ever since his story on the Kingpin - and the other side to it that would never see the light of day - he hadn't written another that lived up to it.

There was an unsigned note on his keyboard, written in an unfamiliar hand: _There's no story. Check out Worthington Labs. Mutant Cure?_ He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. This had to be a joke. There'd been rumours of a mutant cure for a decade now at least, and Worthington himself had gone on record saying it didn't exist. He crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it in his overflowing trash bin.

Then he went out for a coffee and to replenish his dwindling supply of cigarettes. He only walked halfway down the stairs, though, before he turned back. What if Daredevil had unearthed something? He gave up looking for the note amidst all the other crumpled pieces of paper and put his glasses back on, peering through the cloudy lenses at the computer screen, slowly loading the page to an online travel agency. Airfare to San Francisco wasn't cheap these days, and if Jameson was in a bad mood, it might have to come out of his own pocket.

***

When Matt arrived at the office that morning, Foggy was sitting outside waiting for him.

"Did you forget your keys?"

"Let's go for a walk," Foggy said, slinging one arm around Matt's shoulders, turning them both around.

It wasn't until they were both seated at their favourite booth at the diner across the street that Foggy brought up what was on his mind. "Listen, Matt. You know you're my best friend, right? So, if there was anything you wanted to tell me..."

Matt let that hang in the air, as he went through the last few days, wondering what Foggy was hinting at.

"_Anything_ at all."

"Well, Foggy... I don't know what to say."

"It's all right! Don't worry about a thing. You can move in with me. We survived college! We can survive this too."

"Survive what exactly?" Matt stirred his coffee for lack of anything better to do.

"You know, this crisis that you're going through. All that sleeping in the office?"

Matt didn't think it had been that many days. "I didn't sleep in the office last night."

"You look terrible."

"It's what I love to hear."

"I'm serious, Matt. If you need a place to stay, my door is always open. You still have a key, right?" With that out of the way, Foggy turned his attention to the menu. "I hear they're doing something new with the eggs. Dare we try it?"

"I don't know, Foggy. You remember the last time." Foggy chuckled, and Matt smiled. "Hey, Foggy? Thanks."

"For what?"

Matt shook his head. "Nothing. Everything."

"You're not making any sense. Let's order before hunger makes you delirious."

_Thanks for being my friend even when I don't deserve it._ Matt let that thought go unvoiced, as Foggy rattled off the menu items to him. There were times he wished he could tell him about Daredevil, but the risks were too great. Foggy was one of the few constants in Matt's life, and he didn't want his actions as Daredevil to change that.


End file.
